


King of Park

by KingofPark



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingofPark/pseuds/KingofPark
Summary: South Park, in this world, is a remote and lonely village stricken with poverty. Craig Tucker, the son of the pig farmer, was bored with everything around him. School was pointless, the other kids there were annoying, tending the pigs didn’t take much, and books were hard to come by. The only thing he did find interest in, was a twitchy blond, the only child of a diary farmer. There was certainly something strange about that boy. Craig thought he knew just about everything about him, until Tweek Tweak was dragged away forcefully by castle guards, never to return.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on my new ao3 account and my first time writing fanfic in about two years. Please enjoy and don't hesitate to tell me what you think!

He did nothing but work all his life thus far. I watched him, always going unnoticed, which I was grateful for. I first started watching him in class. The king made a ruling nearing a decade ago that would require even the poor farmer boys like him and I to get some sort of education. Even the shunned McCormick children had to attend. I thought it was pointless. Why would I need math when I know I’m going to be doing nothing but tending to pigs for the rest of my life?

So I distracted myself with watching him. He had a constant, rapid, unsteady shake to him. Sometimes his hands shook so rapidly he had to wait for them to calm before he could write. Sometimes his eye would twitch, in a way that would either flick his head to the side and one eye would be forced shut or in a way that would cause the grey bags under his eyes to vibrate faster than the rest of him.

We lived close. There was about a mile of open land between his family’s farm and mine. My family had all of the pigs and corn in our little village. The corn made for good money. And after I had gotten attached to the pigs every year, they would be slaughtered and make for good money too.

His family wasn’t so lucky. They owned a dairy farm. Their cows were few in number and half of them were sick. Tweek, I found out his name was, looked after them the most.

His family also owned a humble coffee shop in our humble village. Tweek spent more of his time there than his parents as well. Always working, whether it be behind the counter or sweeping or etcetera. Not many in the village were exactly big on coffee. They had to raise prices because no one was buying which brought customers in even less. When I would come in, which was most days now, he would thank me profusely. I shrugged it off, my best attempt at showing disinterest in him.

And after it had already gone dark, he would finally head home. His father scolded him, for showing up late, for not making enough money, for not having what it takes to ever bring a girl home. So even in the comfort of his own home, he shook.

He did schoolwork until the early hours of the morning, drinking sugary coffee like water all the way through. At least I was pretty sure. In the oak outside his window I would fall asleep as he was doing that, and when the sun rose I found him doing the same.

And now that I’m actually recapping what I’ve been doing on and off for the past couple years for the first time, I sound like a major fucking creep.

When he moved from his position at his desk, I knew I had little time to escape, lest I wanted him to find that I had been creeping outside his window as if I was planning his murder. Or that’s what he would assume if he found me. So I nimbly stepped and slid down from my cradled spot in the oak and sprung to my feet. From where the sun hung in the sky, I guessed that it was about time to start heading for school.

Most of the way there, he caught up to me. If we ever talked, it was always him who approached me, for being his family’s most generous customer, and not because we were friends, because we weren’t.

“Hey, Craig. Get all of your work done last night?”

“ _Fuck_ no,” I half chortled, to which his body responded with its unnatural exaggerated flinching. “You really think any of this matters? These little reform implementations the king has been using to capture the hearts of the people will amount to nothing in our lifetimes. None of the idiots at our shithole of a school will ever be noblemen. The same people will be living in South Park, and the same people will be living in Middle Park. I’m not wasting my time. Those people in the kingdom have no compassion. They don’t know what it’s like to live like us.”

I felt bad the second I saw his hanging head, staring at the clumpy dirt road on which we walked.

“You’re probably right,” he decided all too quickly, lifting his head back up. “You’d make a great king, Craig.”

“You’re funny," I said, with the kind of blunt unfriendly tone that stopped any conversation I had with anyone in its tracks. He didn't seem to mind when I slowed down, allowing him to get a good ways ahead of me. I wouldn't want my friends thinking we were close or anything...

In the classroom, I sat in the back where I always did. Some thought I did that in consideration of my classmates, being that I was the tallest one there by far, but I wasn’t that nice. I did it so that I could watch Tweek without being too obvious. Apparently I was cracking. Clyde tapped me on the shoulder.

“Dude, does that kid have something on his face or something? In his hair? Why’re you bein a weirdo?”

I scoweled. “He’s shaking less than normal this morning. It's… good.”

He seemed taken aback. “Uh… yeah. I guess so. I wouldn’t have noticed.” He took a second to watch Tweek vibrate gently in his chair. It was true, he was shaking a little less this morning. “Damn,” Clyde spoke up again, “You’re right. Can’t help but feel bad for the kid. His home life must be just as bad as McCormick's.” He gestured with his thumb to the corner of the classroom, where Kenny McCormick sat. He wore a parka style coat and never removed it. We all knew what was underneath though. Layers upon layers of bruises.

Lunch was my least favorite part of the day. Tweek sat at the smallest, flimsiest, rotting wooden table in the room by himself. Where I sat with Clyde was also where a bunch of the biggest shitheads in my class sat. If I stared at all, they would catch it in a second, halt whatever pointless argument they were having and all of the focus would be on me. Attention is one of my least favorite things, right next to fucking math. If I wanted to avoid getting any attention, I’d have to just suck it up and listen to their nonsense.

“And then Kyle’s mom said, _‘if you don’t clean the chicken shit out of your bedroom right now, I’m stuffing the next one up my Jew vagina before I put it in your stew.’”_ Cartman’s voice was so shrill in his mocking that it was enough to make me nauseous.

“You know that’s not what she said, Cartman. Stop adding stuff to the dialogue that isn’t there. You think it’s funny but it’s fucking not,” Kyle nagged. I never understood why Kyle always felt the need to defend himself when it came to Cartman. Of course no one thought the stuff Cartman said was funny. And no one took it seriously. Kyle’s smart enough to know he’s arguing with a wall, yet he persists.

“Oh no, is Kyle on his period again? Kyle’s on his period again, huh Kenny?”

Kenny mumbled something incomprehensible into his parka.

“Fuck off, Kenny. You’re just saying that because you’re poor.”

“And you bash people relentlessly over things they can’t control because your mom’s the local whore and because of that, you don’t know who your dad is!” Kyle jumped in again.

I yawned. This stuff used to be mildly entertaining, but at this point, it was all the same shit. Wasn’t this almost the same conversation they had like four days ago?

An intense, high sound of an instrument came from the entrance. We all turned our heads to see people with clean, brightly colored clothing with funky patterns. One of them held a trumpet.

Another one of them held a scroll. He cleared his throat.

“As many of you already know, twelve years ago, the prince of Park, the only heir to the king, was kidnapped. To this day, he remains missing, and the king is on his death bed...”

Everyone starts muttering at their seats. We had all heard of course, of the kidnapping of the prince, but it had been so long ago. All of us were pretty young then.

“...The search has been... less than successful, and naturally, the castle is desperate to find the young man who is its rightful leader. The king has provided a description of his son from his memory. He was blond, fond of wearing the color green, and often expressing a quite neurotic behavior; nervous, twitchy, and with a nearly overwhelming variety of ticks...”

More and more eyes flew to Tweek. Tweek, though, hadn’t seemed to be listening at all. He was distracted, daydreaming maybe. I was surprised the trumpet hadn’t shocked him into a coma.

Two men in armor grabbed him under the arms and began to carry him away. I stood, reflexively.

He kicked and squirmed and rattled off questions. ‘What are you doing? Where are you taking me? Why aren’t you saying anything?!’

Everyone followed to watch in awe as he was brought outside, shoved into a carriage and taken off into the distance. We were all shocked into silence. I couldn’t even manage to inhale, until my chest ached.

Our teacher ushered us inside, and we were forced to continue the day as if nothing happened.

I never realized our lectures in school were so boring. And now I had nothing to distract myself with. Where Tweek would sit, in the center of the room, was now the only empty desk. I hadn’t had time to process what had happened yet. Right now was as good a time as any.

So... the prince was missing.

The prince was described to be exactly like Tweek.

The king is dying.

...

Tweek is about to be king.

Like... soon.

And his parents didn’t even know he was gone. If they even were his parents.

After we were let out, I took a long walk, and waited until it started to get dark. I still didn’t feel prepared to talk to Tweek’s parents when I walked into their shop. It was empty, save for the two of them. Tweek’s mother halted her sweeping and his father looked up from the counter as soon as I opened the door.

“Craig!” Mr. Tweak called out to me in the fond manner he always did. “Say, you don’t happened to know where Tweek is, do you? He hasn’t shown up to take care of the shop, and he’s not at home, either.”

“You might want to sit down for this.”

I took a seat at one of the few tables they had and they sat down across from me. I studied their faces. They didn’t look worried. And now that I thought about it, neither of them looked like Tweek at all.

I recounted it like I was telling a tall tale. Twelve years ago, the prince was kidnapped. The ‘search’ conducted by the castle wasn’t much more than ‘if you’ve seen this boy, return him for a reward’, which is tremendously weird for someone of great wealth, let alone royalty. They were forced to do a thorough search of the kingdom, now that the king was near his death. Tweek fit the description. I told them in detail how I saw him dragged away. How he was shoved into the carriage completely against his own will.

“You mean they just took him?” Mrs. Tweak said, now slightly concerned.

“Is... is he really the prince?” I had to ask.

There was a cold silence.

“Are you really asking us that? Of course he’s not. He was born right here, at the coffee shop, right honey?”

“It’s true. Oh, please get him back for us, Craig. He’s our son. We love him so very much.”

Somehow I didn’t fully believe them. But I don’t know. Either way, I needed to see him again.

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

I walked home. My family was surprised to see me. My dad gave me a pat on the back and a, _'Look who decided to come home.'_

I didn’t hate my family. I had a great family. But I was on a mission. So I ignored him, I packed a bag of clothes, and I slept in my own bed for what would be the last time for who knows how long. I would leave when the sun came up.


	2. Chapter 2

I was the only one in the carriage they shoved me into. The ones who put me in here sat on a small bench that hung off the back or on the horses that pulled it. Not one of them would answer any of my questions. None of them even said anything to me for hours. The first thing any of them said to me was, “Nearly there, your highness.”

I pulled at the hem at the bottom of my olive green shirt. I couldn’t help but feel that the nice carriage and the ‘your highness’ nonsense was just some elaborate trick. Worry was built up at the pit of my stomach.

Even so, curiosity eventually overpowered my fear, and I peered out the window. Buildings were made of stone rather than rotting wood. Everyone’s clothes were clean. People were actually buying things at the market. They were all smiling. I’d never seen such a thing before.

When one would look towards me, I’d duck out of the way of the window. Those people would be disgusted to see something like me. I was dirty. A disgrace. I didn’t belong in a horse-drawn carriage laced with gold.

The carriage came to a stop. One man was quick to jump off, so he could open the gate of it for me. He even grabbed my hand to help me down. A grand, sparkling castle stood before me. The walk to the gigantic front doors was the longest walk of my life. I feared that if I walked too fast, it would all fade away and I would be back in my flimsy bed, in a cold sweat, as I had so many times before. This time it felt too real. I would’ve never been able to imagine up something so beautiful.

When I finally entered, a blond boy around my age and with his head shaved at the sides ran up to me. He clutched my hands and gasped for breath as he struggled to speak.

“Your highness! Hurry! This way!”

He dragged me by the wrist up wide magnificent flights of stairs and to the open double doors of a master bedroom. A crowd of people stood around a bed that was bigger than my kitchen at home. They all made way for me.

The man who must be king was under the thick covers at the edge. His crown lay idol on the bedside table. His face was sickeningly pale white like the fuzzy mold on strawberries.

I sat on my knees next to him. He reached out with one weak arm for my hand. I took his hand in both of mine. The shaking in my legs was rapid and obvious. This man was about to die.

“You’re here. My son. I thought I’d never see you again,” his voice was raspy and broken. He sounded thirty years older than he looked. “Please, let me hear your voice.”

“Sir, I don’t—“

“No. Call me father. I know it’s strange, but as a man’s last request...”

I coughed, correcting myself for this man whom I’ve never met, “...Father...”

“...forgive me, for everything I’ve done and allowed. And rule this kingdom well, like I know you will, Thomas.”

There was a twang at the pit of my stomach when I heard that name. It was like going up on stage to accept an award only for the trophy to have your name misspelled, like in one silly old story book I took from the school so very long ago.

I stared this man in the eyes for a short minute as the last bit of life drained from his eyes. His hand went limp in mine. Other people around the bed practically shooed me away before they lifted his body and carried it out.

Left in the room was me and the boy with the sides of his head shaved. When our eyes met, he held his hand out for a handshake, then quickly retracted it before giving me an exaggerated bow.

“I have the great honor to be your humble, obedient servant. I’m Butters—sorry, Leopold Stotch—but everyone calls me Butters!” he said with a smile and an almost overwhelming burst of energy.

“Why...uh, do they call you Butters?”

“Oh, my parents churned butter for a living! They had me work too, once they thought I was old enough. So when I turned three, that’s what I did! Except...my family only owned two churners, so I had to use my hands. They’re soft as butter. Go ahead, feel ‘em!”

He extended his arms out to me, palms facing up. I was hesitant. He smiled bigger, seemingly blissfully unaware of the awkwardness between us.

It took a few seconds, but I touched his hands. I was amazed at the pillow-like softness of them, but also at the stunning clash of cleanliness between us. His hands were treasures. Mine were streaked with dirt.

“See?”

“Yeah... They’re really soft.”

His nose twitched. “ _Woof!_ You’re stinky, aren’t you?”

I pulled my hands away and stepped back. “I’m sorry! We only get new bath water about once a month back at home so...”

“It’s okay!” He interrupted, “You’re probably starving too, huh? How about we get you something to eat, and then get you cleaned up?”

He way already pulling me along. Out the king’s bedroom, down the wide stairs, and to a dining room with a long table in the center that could easily seat more than a hundred people. He sat me at the cushioned thrown that capped the end of it.

“I’ll be right back.”

I kicked my feet and took in everything I could. Everything was shiny and spotless. The chandelier above me had to be fifty feet wide. I didn’t belong here.

Butters reappeared and sat in a much smaller chair next to mine. It still had red cushions and was trimmed with gold.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” he said. I wanted to return his smile, but I couldn’t. “What’s wrong?”

I took a moment to put my words together. My bottom lip trembled. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

He tilted his head. “But... but why?”

“I don’t have any memory of this place. My name isn’t Thomas. It’s Tweek.” I cringed at the sound of my own name leaving my lips. I avoided Butters’ eyes. Tweek wasn’t a fancy name like Thomas. It wasn’t even the decent name of a commoner. It sounded like a name one would give to a slave.

“Maybe you’re just so used to being called that, that you forgot? Sometimes I forget my real name. I like the name Butters better anyway.”

“But what about the castle? How could I not remember something so...beautiful? Hh...I’ve never seen anything more in my life than fields and dirt roads.”

“I’ve been here so long, it’s hard to remember what my home looked like. All I can remember is my dad’s voice,” his smile vanished and he began to cower. His eyes went wide. He definitely saw something in the air that I didn’t. “He was so nice the last time he spoke though, since he’d never see me again.”

“What happened?”

“My parents were offered so much money they couldn’t turn it down. At least they’re probably happy now...”

I felt my cheeks filling up with a light pink. Here I was feeling bad about myself. Butters and I aren’t all that different. I couldn’t count how many times my dad has said he might have to sell me off to save the coffee shop.

Lines of people carrying trays flooded around me and filled the table with more food than I’ve seen in my life. A full turkey, the classic pig with the apple in its mouth, a pile of steaks, potatoes cooked in every fashion, more fruits and vegetables than I knew the names of, and beautifully decorated cakes and puddings. My mind went blank and my mouth watered.

“I’ll fix your plate for you, your highness. What would you like?”

My eyes scanned the table for the tenth time. My mouth hung open. I put my sleeve to my lips just in time to catch the drool. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment again.

“How about a little bit of everything?”

I nodded.

He arranged the perfect platter for me. He sat it in front of me and told me not to touch it. My slight hunger before turned agonizing.

He ran back with a warm, wet rag. I knew I was supposed to feel superior with him doing everything for me, but I felt more like a toddler. He wiped the dirt off of my hands. Even though I was pouty, I held onto the feeling of warmth on my hands, that shot a weird tingle up and down my back. Something like pleasure.

And it kept getting better. Every bite was a little piece of heaven. I stuffed myself until it hurt. I didn’t finish the plate, because I wasn’t used to eating so much, but I wish I could have.

As soon as I was finished, Butters escorted me upstairs. Attached to a second grand bedroom was a beautiful bathroom with a bath already drawn. At home we had a large trough to bath in and an outhouse.

"I'll give you some privacy, your highness. Just knock when you're done. I'll clean up for you," he gave me another warm smile before closing the door behind him. 

Suddenly things were much quieter. Completely silent, in fact. The muffled chatter from around the castle that was hardly noticeable before was now gone. The bathroom must have thick walls. That's nice to know. 

I watched for a few seconds as the steam came out of the water. A hot bath just for me. I've never had a warm bath. I looked down at my dirt-caked clothes one last time. All of this change was sort of scary but...so far it was all too good to be true. I removed my clothing, knowing with how worn and drab they were they would be thrown away as soon as possible. I placed them into a pile and kicked it all into the corner. Good riddance.

I sunk myself into the bath and felt an amount of pleasure greater than anyone in South Park thought was possible. I sighed audibly. I could get used to being royalty if it felt this good.

I played around in the soapy water for a little, scooping it up in my hands and blowing the little bubbles out. Then I let myself sink in a little deeper, until I was up to my nose in bubbles. 

I don't have a clue how long I was in there, but when I caught myself falling asleep, the water wasn't quite warm anymore, and shortly after, there was a knock at the door.

"Are you alright, your worship? You've been in there for quite some time..."

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine!" Water sloshed out of the tub onto the hard floor after I jerked forward. "Just... just a minute. I'll let you know when I'm done."

I rushed to scrub my skin raw, just hoping it could be half as clean as the other residents of the castle. The water I stepped out of was a solid grey. It may take a month until I wash at of this peasant off of me. Looking around, I noticed a fluffy clean robe hanging out of the way, and like everything else in this place, its warmth and softness were too good to be true. I knocked on the door to let Butters know I was done.

He gave me fresh clothes. Pajamas that were green and silky. I never even owned pajamas before. The sleeves hung past my fingertips and I stepped on the pant legs.

"Sorry that they're a little big. The king had them made without knowing how big you would be," Butters chuckled. "Or how _small_ , I guess I should say..."

The room he had brought me to to sleep in was nice and all, covered in gold and fancy stuff and all that, but the part of it that caught my eye was the bed. Silky and soft. I hadn't slept in days, so the sight of it was making my mouth water just as much as the food had. Butters continued to talk, but I hadn't been paying attention.

"...and you know what they say about guys with small wieners. Not that I tried to peek or anything. I promise I didn't..." Butters kept on rambling, but none of it registered for me. Nothing matters when you're in heaven. Not even dick size. "You know that a small wiener represents status and wealth? I only learned that like two years ago. Isn't that neato?"

"Uh... is this really...all mine? This bed is mine?"

"This whole castle is yours, silly! You should probably get to sleepin' now. You got a long, long week ahead of you."

"A long week? Why?" I asked, no longer resisting the urge to tuck myself in under the covers. I hummed in absolute contentment.

"You gotta get taught how to run the kingdom since ya've been gone so long. We have a little bit of restaffing to do, so you'll have to figure that out... Oh! And my favorite! Since they were able to find you so quickly this time, the suitress party is still on for Saturday! That's exciting, ain't it?"

"Suit...ress? Does that mean... I'm suppose to get married?" 

"Yep!" He said turning to light up a candlestick. He picked it up by its cute little handle and opened the door to head out. "I wish I could have a girlfriend or something. Servants aren't supposed to be datin'..." He trailed off and hung his head, before jerkily perking back up. "Anyway, good night!"

The door was slammed shut, leaving me in pitch black.

Suddenly, I wasn't feeling so well. Running a whole kingdom? Restaffing? Getting married? _That sounds like way too much pressure!_ There's no way I'm gonna be able to manage all that...

It turns out this place is actually hell. In that cushiony soft bed that I melted right into, I didn't get a wink of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not discontinued.


End file.
